


The Fall

by south_adversary



Series: Into The Flood [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drama, Healing, Love, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/south_adversary/pseuds/south_adversary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zarek Trevelyan felt a pull toward Cole from the moment they met. Visiting the spirit in the tavern for the first time leaves him with an unsettled impression and old memories. Love can begin in a lot of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a series of zarek x cole scenes that will go in mostly chronological order, and none of them will be very long.
> 
> It's been a long time since I've written anything, but I feel so strongly about these two that I had to do it. I appreciate any feedback, even if you tell me it's awful.
> 
> The flashback (you’ll know it when it starts) is a combination of Cole’s words and my inquisitor Zarek’s memories. All the italics are Zarek’s thoughts from the memory, or just his most vivid memories, spoken aloud to Zarek as Cole reads him. 
> 
> Also, I have been told to suggest that you listen to this while you read:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MqoANESQ4cQ  
> It’s instrumental. I’m sure you’ll be fine without it, but it’s a really beautiful song, and I listened to it while writing.

Not long after the acquisition of a broken down Skyhold, Inquisitor Zarek Trevelyan entered the newly assembled tavern on the fortress’ grounds—the smell of booze, food, and candlewax filling his nose. A pleasant mixture to some, apparently.

A woman seated at one of the tables addressed him by his title and he frowned, still not used to the sound of it. He glanced around the small building and nodded at Bull and Krem before ascending the stairs, then checked in on Sera just to arch a brow at her strangeness.

He left Sera’s tiny outlet and stared up past the third level, feeling a pull in his chest like someone wanted to see him... The minstrel that Sera insisted was flirting with her began lilting her mournful voice through the tavern.  

Zarek rose to the overcroft and was both surprised and unfazed to find Cole there, in the corner, waiting for him. He stood with his head down, eyes hidden, but Zarek could sense his gaze. He approached slowly, not wanting to discomfort the spirit.

When Solas first explained what Cole was, Zarek felt more curious than anything. The hostile way most of the inner circle dealt with him confused the inquisitor. The boy seemed genuine enough—years of Trevelyan family life had taught him how to spot a liar. Vivienne particularly insisted on calling him a “demon”, but that barely mattered to Zarek. His presence didn’t feel demonic, and if he became a demon…? He failed to see how that would be different from the other demons they fought on a near daily basis. So he permitted Cole to stay with little doubt about the decision.

“Hello…” Cole had a soft voice. Zarek, now standing relatively near the spirit, wondered why he hid himself so thoroughly; with the oversized brim of his hat and his overgrown hair, in addition to stowing himself away above the tavern.

“Hello Cole.”

Moments slid by. If he was always this silent, the inquisitor expected he would enjoy spending time with Cole. “Is there something you wanted to speak to me about?”

The boy hesitated. “Where are you from?” He spoke pleasantly.

“My family lives in the Free Marches, in Ostwick. I grew up there.”

“I see...”

A pause.

“I see blood when I look at you. Behind my eyes. And I feel it in my chest.”

Zarek stared at the spirit, brows furrowed, confused and startled. He swallowed. “I’m not sure what that means Cole.”

“You…”  

 

* * *

 

 

**Zarek Trevelyan : 21**

**10 Years Before the Inquisition**

The cabin door creaked open in its familiar manner.

_A normal morning. Alone._

Zarek rose alone. Dressed alone. Surrounded by servants, but as usual, alone. Felix’s scent from the night before still lingered on his sheets. After sneaking in the previous evening, he had apparently decided to sneak back out.

Irritation knit Zarek’s brows together as he planned how he would scold the apostate.

_Brat…_

No point in actually going through with that. Every other attempt to keep him around had failed.

_“I hate the atmosphere there. It’s all suppressed hatred and bitter smiles.”_

An accurate description of the Trevelyan family.

Sometimes Zarek wondered if Felix’s real reason for sneaking around came more from habit than choice. He imagined the instincts of a blood mage made settling… complicated.

The Trevelyan used to worry more. He often thought he should still worry more, but after witnessing the power Felix possessed—along with his determined, unforgiving attitude—it became difficult to think him vulnerable.

The walk to the apostate’s cabin seemed longer each trip. Zarek blamed it on repetitive boredom to avoid admitting anticipation to see his lover.

Closing in on the little grove where it sat was something he could almost feel. Waves pulsated from the area like it was alive. At times, voices whispered through his head, or he heard nothing at all. Achingly silent. Often the trees stood stone still like no tree should.

_“Quite a home you picked, Felix,”_ he teased on his first visit. The elf smirked proudly, wrinkling his nose in that way Zarek begrudgingly loved, claiming, _“It’s fitting though isn’t it?”_

And it was. Felix blended into his home perfectly. Zarek tried and failed to not be mesmerized watching the mage move around the one-room cabin, seeming like his feet needn’t touch the ground.

Felix was the most honest person he’d ever known—not exactly a sound compliment after growing up in the Trevelyan household, but true nonetheless. The mage’s aura was dark, but not muddied with any hidden intentions. When he looked at Felix, he saw not a bright future, but a whole one, shaped by raw emotion. Good and bad. In his own way, Zarek looked at Felix and felt peace.

He never imagined that would be so valuable to him.

Finally reaching the grove, Zarek inhaled the scent of rare herbs and wilderness. Sometime during his march a rainstorm descended, leaving the earth drenched.

The warrior placed his hand on the door and pushed at the poorly crafted slab.

After the initial creak of the door, followed by the smack of it hitting the inside wall, the already desolate silence seemed to crack the air.

Zarek froze.

The scent of herbs mixed with trees and Felix’s sweet aroma now mixed with blood. Specs of it clung to the walls.

_Still air._

Glazed eyes traveled the dark cabin. Books tipped over, should be stacked. Bed a mess. Shelves crashed. Blood-

_Ears ringing._

_Veins cold._

_Blood._

-spread across the floor undisturbed. His eyes rested on the body. A hole where the heart lives. Pale skin bruised and opened. Blonde hair soaked in blood.

_Blood from the heart._

_Felix._

_Still air._

Zarek knelt and gently closed his lover’s eyes, aching too harshly to breathe. Hands stained red.

_Blood._

_So much blood._

**_Templars._ **

Figures danced around his grieving mind, trying to form words of revenge. Nothing came. Nothing stuck. Only the hole and the ache it created.

_Veins frozen._

_Blood cold._

_Both cold. The warmth… gone._

Zarek rested himself in the flood next to Felix, allowing himself to feel cold, and drifted to sleep with the body in his arms.

Cold.

* * *

 

Cole raised his head and Zarek saw the blue of his eyes for the first time before forcing his legs to carry him swiftly from the tavern.


End file.
